


Morning Routine

by through_shadows_falling



Series: Supernatural Ficlets [22]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Domestic Fluff, Elderly Destiel, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Old Married Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 09:23:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4132270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/through_shadows_falling/pseuds/through_shadows_falling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Times like these, Dean could hardly believe this was how it’d all turned out, just the two of them in this big, drafty bunker - their home. Even decades later, it hit him hard just what his life meant now, and honestly? He’d do it all again just to get here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning Routine

The morning was cold and rainy - at least according to Dean’s thing-a-ma-jig, which told him the weather outside, since the bunker had no windows. 

Sam had gotten him the device years ago, and while Dean  _sometimes_  found it useful, he didn’t need it that particular morning. From the way his body ached, he knew that it was raining. 

Dean’s bones creaked as he sat up. He yawned and rubbed his face before smiling at the lump that was his husband’s body. 

Cas slept on his left side, and was curled up in his customary blanket burrito. He had extra blankets, since they’d learned a while back that Cas often stole Dean’s, so this was how they made it work. 

Cas snored gently as Dean bent to brush a hand down his face and then over the curve of his sleeping form. 

Times like these, Dean could hardly believe this was how it’d all turned out, just the two of them in this big, drafty bunker - their home. Even decades later, it hit him hard just what his life meant now, and honestly? He’d do it all again just to get here. 

Dean pushed himself to his feet, already intent on their morning routine. He was always the first to wake up, the first to take a piss, the first to turn on the lights, the first to get the coffee started. 

Their coffee maker was considered ancient now, but it still worked, and Dean liked that it took time to brew. It gave him the chance to just breathe in the morning stillness before Cas got up. 

Sure enough, a few minutes after he turned the machine, there came the soft thumping of a cane and two padded feet. Cas rounded the corner, his hair - almost completely gray - sticking up in haphazard angles. Like Dean, he still wore his long john pajamas, though his were pinstriped. 

“How’s the leg today?” Dean asked, as he always did. He knew Cas had good and bad days, ever since the horrible hunt years back. Dean had almost lost Cas that day, and it nearly destroyed him - after all, Cas had only become human after sacrificing his Grace to save Dean from the Mark of Cain. It would have been Dean’s fault if he died. 

But Cas was a fighter, and though the doctors told him he’d never walk again, he did. Not without limping, but he managed to support himself and get around when he needed to. He was stubborn like that.

And when he couldn’t, Dean was always there to help. 

“It’s good,” Cas said, his voice rough with sleep. He aligned himself with a kitchen chair and slowly eased himself into the seat. He propped the cane up against the wall. 

“Good,” Dean said, from where he leaned against the counter. “Thought the rain might make it worse.”

“Nope.”

Dean hummed and walked forward to peck Cas on the forehead. Cas smiled at him, and Dean grinned back.

Rainy mornings made Dean sentimental…or maybe it was just old age. 

The machine whirred, and the kitchen filled with the heady aroma of brewing coffee. Dean pulled out two mugs from the cabinet. “Any special flavors?” he asked. 

Cas made a thoughtful noise. “Surprise me.”

“Alrighty.” Dean reached for a bottle of caramel-flavored syrup. He squirted some in Cas’s mug, then his own. 

Sue him - so Dean liked things a little sweet every once in a while.

Dean poured the coffee, and after stirring Cas’s to perfection, he passed it to him. 

“Mmm,” Cas murmured as he breathed in the steam. 

The seconds ticked by, counted by the clock on the wall. Dean sat at the kitchen table with his husband and took small sips of coffee. Next to him, Cas did the same. 

“You take your cholesterol medication yet?” Cas asked after a long moment. 

Dean eyed the pill bottles on the counter - so far away - and grumbled to himself. 

“Dean, you have to take them.”

“Yeah, yeah, I  _know_. Just don’t wanna get up yet.” 

Cas huffed at that, but Dean glared at him. 

“Shut up. You’re just as bad. Besides, you didn’t take  _your_  meds yet.”

“That’s because I take them with food. Or is your memory failing you?” 

“Oh shut up,” Dean repeated. He flashed a smile, but they both knew it was true: Dean was forgetting things.

Sometimes at night, when Dean couldn’t sleep, he’d lay in bed and try to remember facts from his hunting days, like how to gank a tulpa, or where djinns preferred to hide out. 

More and more, though, Dean couldn’t line up the details right. Was it rougarus or ghouls that hated fire? Did iron work against changelings? And what were the names of those witch-like things that fed off children? It started with a ‘T.’ Or maybe an ‘S’?

Dean sighed. Those facts weren’t important anymore, not to him. He and Sam had already passed down their knowledge to the next generation of hunters via online database. Now, Dean didn’t hear of hunts anymore, and actively avoided any news outlet that might reveal something supernatural-related. 

“Dean?” Cas’s warm hand landed on his knee.

Dean jumped. “Oh, sorry. Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“Nothing.”

Cas’s eyes narrowed at that, but he let it slide. He braced a hand on the table and grunted as he pushed to his feet. Dean stood to support him.

“I’m fine,” Cas said, waving away Dean’s help as he grabbed his cane and hobbled over to the counter. The pill bottles rattled as he picked them up. “You need to take your medication before you forget.” 

Dean joined him and let Cas pour pills into his outstretched palm. He filled a glass of water and chased them down.

“There. Happy?” he said.

Cas just gazed at him, fond contentment settling over his features. “Yes, I am. Very happy.”

With his face like that, Dean couldn’t resist leaning down to press their lips together. They kissed slowly and gently. Cas tasted like coffee. 

Dean reached up to trace the crowfeet at the corners of his husband’s eyes, then brushed his fingertips down Cas’s cheek. 

Though they’d taken a long time to get together, once they did, they wasted no time. By now, Dean knew Cas’s body almost as well as his own.

“What do you want to do today?” Cas breathed when he pulled back enough to lean their foreheads together. 

“Hmm,” Dean murmured. “It’s raining and I don’t feel like doing anything. Wanna just watch movies all day?”

Cas smiled. “Sounds perfect.”

“Hell yeah it does.” 


End file.
